


And So It Goes

by frantic65



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frantic65/pseuds/frantic65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Brian had said something the night before the Rage party? Would it have made a difference?</p>
            </blockquote>





	And So It Goes

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t usually write anything from a “What If” perspective. I tend to leave canon be and work with what we were given…no matter how much it hurt. But, I was listening to the song “And So It Goes” by Billy Joel, and I realized it sounded a lot like what I think might have been going through Brian’s mind during this time frame. It also reminded me of a drabble I wrote a while ago titled, "The Perfect Silence" which ends up being included in this piece as well. Sometimes something small can change everything…sometimes not. I still don’t know if this would have altered Justin’s decision…it may have just been too late by then anyway. You decide.

_In every heart there is a room,_  
A sanctuary safe and strong  
To heal the wounds from lovers past  
Until a new one comes along. 

He was going to leave me for another man. The extreme irony of those words didn’t escape me. On the contrary, it felt eerily like a fucking self-fulfilling prophecy, one that I had been waiting for ever since I’d let the little shit claim what I now realized was the lion’s share of my once carefully shielded heart.

He’d always demanded more than I could give, and in retrospect I can see that I was the one struggling to adapt to his lifestyle in ways so subtle it’s almost impossible to go back and retrace the path. I suspect that if our journey together had taken place on the wet sand of some exotic beach, you’d see his sure-and-steady footprints marching right alongside my staggering steps, stubbornly keeping pace, and only letting me fall to my knees once…when outside forces intervened and I watched his blood spill onto the cold concrete of a damp and desolate parking garage.

Although I went about it in a rather chicken-shit manner at first, the horror that was Justin’s prom night was enough to convince me that he belonged with me, at least until something healthier came along to tempt him. And even though I knew it was inevitable that he would move on someday, now that the time had apparently arrived, I found myself reluctant to let him go.

The perfect silence in the loft was broken by the sound of the entry door sliding open. I watched as a shadow crossed soundlessly toward me, stopping at the foot of the bed. Wordlessly, I pulled back the duvet in a quiet invitation, Justin’s solemn acceptance at odds with the cautious relief I felt as my boy slid in beside me. 

It would be so easy. _“You belong with me.” “Please stay.”_

Simple phrases really, but wielding the power to move mountains or change the course of lives. Yet the words remained unspoken; the opportunity lost to the perfect silence.

_I spoke to you in cautious tones,_  
You answered me with no pretense.  
And still I feel I said too much,  
My silence is my self defense. 

Yet, neither one of us slept that night. And unlike many previous nights when we had spent the hours tangled together as one, unsure of where one of us ended and the other began, this time as the dawn approached I knew that unless I broke the silence with words instead of actions, he would choose to start a life with another, someone who wasn’t afraid to admit that he was worth the fight.

I slid my fingers gently down his back, hesitating for a moment when I felt his body grow tense beneath my hands. I pressed my face against the nape of his neck and softly kissed him, whispering, “Please let me touch you,” into his ear. 

I felt him shudder and exhale as though he had been holding his breath the entire night. He relaxed into my touch, nodding his permission, shifting beneath me until he was able to cup my face in his palm, pulling my mouth closer to his until our lips were separated by nothing more than the sound of our heartbeats.

“Brian…” his lips brushed against mine, the sound of his voice seeming to echo throughout the room, sliding its way into the deepest reaches of my mind, trying to shine a ray of light into the darkness that had always been a part of me.

“Tell me what you need.” The words were pulled from me and I rested my forehead against his to hide the fact that I was starting to shake, whether in fear or anticipation, I had no fucking clue. 

He moved back so he could search my face in the dim half-light of the new morning. I struggled to meet his gaze with an openness that I had rarely allowed anyone to see. I knew the exact moment he recognized the elusive expression, even as I realized he had forgotten that he had been its last recipient, let alone its significance. It wasn’t his fault though; there was nothing ridiculously romantic about a brain injury.

I also saw the doubt that followed, the lack of confidence in his instincts when it came to our fucked-up dynamic, the main reason he was considering another alternative with a simpler man, with hearts and flowers and beautiful music, something tangible that he felt he could trust.

“You told me you wouldn’t give me what I need or tell me what I want to hear.” He spoke the words slowly, without his usual piss and vigor, and I knew that this was the moment in an advertising campaign where I would press my advantage, pushing the client to sign on the dotted line with a few carefully chosen, cleverly worded phrases. 

But, this wasn’t anything at all like an advertising campaign. Mantras and catch phrases had no place in my relationship with Justin. Like a sucker punch to the gut, I finally understood that what he was asking me for, whether he was ready to admit it or not, wasn’t really bullshit picnics on the floor, or fucking breakfast in bed.

“I would miss you if you weren’t here.” I referred to the question he had asked me a few nights ago, giving him the truth this time, rather than laying the decision at his feet with no direction from my point of view. I owed him that much. He caught his breath and looked at me suspiciously, and why the fuck wouldn’t he? I was basically admitting to him that I was full of shit, and I bit my tongue to hold back a sarcastic remark about how tragic being denied the pleasures of his ass would be in an attempt to salvage my pride and push him away. 

_And every time I've held a rose,_  
It seems I only felt the thorns.  
And so it goes, and so it goes,  
And so will you soon I suppose. 

He moved closer to me, and I couldn’t help but inhale his scent. He hadn’t showered when he crawled in beside me, but he didn’t reek of street performer like he had the night I had walked away and left him half-naked on the floor, my disgust at the evidence of broken fucking rules getting the best of me on that occasion.

“Why now, Brian?” he was holding back, wary of me and my apparent change in strategy. It was a valid question, one I would normally avoid answering by covering his body with mine, changing the subject with a fuck and a smile.

But a sudden vision of life with him in the periphery flashed before me. Family dinners with an extra place setting for Justin’s fiddler, countless awkward moments when artistic milestones would be lauded, yet polite congratulations would be the only contribution expected or desired of me. 

Why now, indeed? Was I really wrong to be so sure that the day would inevitably come when Justin wouldn’t want to be with my dysfunctional ass anymore that I was going to cut my losses without even putting up a fight? 

I looked into his face, expectant but expecting to be disappointed in the end by my answer, and I remembered how I’d felt the night of his prom when I finally started to believe that I just might be able to give him what he’d wanted, without my becoming a pathetic dickless excuse of a fag in the process. But then, fate had intervened and fucked me yet again, reinforcing lessons I’d been taught since childhood. 

“Because for the first time in my life, I’ve found someone who believes in me, even when I’m being a fucking asshole, which is quite often.” I laughed ruefully, my expression quickly turning serious as I caught a glimmer of indecision in his eyes. “You make me a better man, Justin.”

He pressed his forehead to mine, his fingers restlessly stroking through my hair. “I was so sure it was over between us.” He rubbed his nose against mine gently. “Now I don’t know what to do.”

_But if my silence made you leave,_  
Then that would be my worst mistake.  
So I will share this room with you,  
And you can have this heart to break. 

“Godamnit, it’s not fucking fair!” He was angry and frustrated, claiming my lips roughly, pushing his tongue into my mouth forcefully before breaking away to take a panting breath. “This is so typical of you, Brian. Turning me inside out, making me second guess myself.”

“It’s still your decision where you want to be.” I spoke the words reluctantly, but I had no intention of forcing him to stay. He may have been the most mature person I knew, but he was still only nineteen. “I just didn’t want you to think…” I paused and kissed his indignant lips, not knowing if it would be the last time I tasted him. “…that I didn’t give a fuck.” 

He studied my face in that way he has, in that way I don’t recall seeing too often in recent months to be honest. His gaze was intense and focused, making me feel like a slide beneath a microscope, exposed and naked in a completely non-sexual manner. 

He stroked my cheek, than caressed my jaw, before surprising me by pulling me closer, resting my head on his chest, his arms encircling me in a way I found surprisingly relaxing, considering we were discussing intimate things that would normally have progressed to my dick deep in his ass by this time. 

“What would you do if I left?” He murmured the question into my hair, speaking so softly I had to strain to hear him. 

I sighed and shrugged, knowing full well the pain management techniques that had worked for so many years may not be quite enough to pull me through unscathed this time. “I’d survive, Sunshine…somehow I always do…and I wouldn’t blame you for going.” I looked up at him for a moment, catching him biting his lower lip in concentration. 

_So I would choose to be with you,_  
That's if the choice were mine to make.  
But you can make decisions too,  
And you can have this heart to break. 

“And if I stay?” 

Ah, there it was, boys and girls, the million dollar question.

“It won’t be hearts and flowers, Justin, I will never be your dreamy-eyed schoolboy…but you will have more of me than I’ve ever given to anyone else…and that is the most that I can promise.” He tightened his arms around me, and ruffled my hair with his breath. I reached my arm above my head, hooking my hand behind his neck, pulling his face next to my upturned one. I pressed my lips to his; he opened his mouth and invited me inside. I closed my eyes and sank into his touch. The next move was his alone.

I had done what I could to keep him.

The final choice was always his.

He was the one in control. 

_And this is why my eyes are closed_  
It's just as well for all I've seen.  
And so it goes, and so it goes,  
And you're the only one who knows. 


End file.
